Can it get any worse?

Things are going from fucking shitty to beyond fucking shitty and hellish. This is the point where I need to be in the hospital to protect myself from me, but that isn't an option with all the motherly duties I have to perform over the next week. The thought of swallowing all the pills in my stash is running amok in my head. Just let me sleep, sleep forever.

I saw Ms. N today. Ended up being late because I was in the midst of a major panic attack. I was hoping it would stop, but it's always a bad thing for me to hope, because it didn't. So on my drive out there I probably looked like a complete nut shaking my hand super fast in hopes of getting some feeling back in my fingers. Why is it that hands go numb during a panic attack anyway?

The stupid receptionist only ever takes your name when you arrive, they never bother to tell your T you've arrived. But since I was 10 mins late, I figured they'd tell her so she knew I was there and not just blowing off the apptmt. Figured wrong of course. Wasted another 10 mins off my session pacing back & forth because I couldn't sit still before I finally realized that she didn't know I was there. So I told the receptionist she needed to find her because I was about to lose it in their waiting room.

Ms. N seemed to be no help. It was painfully obvious how much distress I was in. I even told her and also gave her a copy of my blog from Saturday. All she did was offer up suggestions on how to distract. Gave me copies of some pages from the DBT workbook. I must be missing the point about distracting. I'm supposed to do these things when I'm depressed, anxious, raging, etc; which is when I want to do them the least. I'm supposed to just do them anyway to distract myself from how I'm feeling. So say I go for a walk or exercise or something...what happens when I'm done? The negative feelings will still be there. Am I supposed to distract all the time and never acknowledge my feelings? I've been doing that for years and years, it's called stuffing.

I don't fucking know. All I know is how shitty I feel right now. I didn't sleep much last night because my stupid ass brain kept going at about 500 mph despite the Seroquel. All these thoughts, all this noise. I thought at one point my head was going to explode because it was really becoming painful. I was so tempted to just take a handful of Seroquel and completely knock myself out. If the kiddie didn't have this play tonight, I'd take a handful after I pick her up from school in about 20 mins and hopefully get some sleep. Remove myself from the reality that I'm alive and I don't want to be. Why the fuck didn't my mother abort me...FUCK!